


Remembering

by cestlestialbeings



Series: Unrequited Wincest [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, POV Sam Winchester, Possessive Sam Winchester, Soulless Sam Winchester, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlestialbeings/pseuds/cestlestialbeings
Summary: Sam remembers something horrible he did to Dean when he was soulless.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Unrequited Wincest [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001400
Comments: 16
Kudos: 57





	Remembering

Things are coming back to Sam in bits and pieces. He knows some of what he did from what Cas told him. But that trip to Bristol brought back a lot too, all the terrible things he’d let happen when he’d had no soul. More and more, memories were leaking through.

He’s sitting at the table in the motel room flipping through a lore book when his phone buzzes. Dean. _Won’t be back tonight, don’t wait up._ It’s his way of saying he’s found a hook-up. He’s never direct. Even though Sam’s told him a hundred times that he’s fine, he’s over it, what he’s felt for Dean, Dean still skirts around any topic about sex or romance or love.

Sam lets out a light laugh, even as he feels a pang of envy in his chest. Dean deserves to let loose, even if its with some stranger he picked up at a bar. Sam can’t hold that against him.

* * *

Sam’s already dressed and ready, just finishing up brushing his teeth, when Dean stumbles in the next morning. He looks hungover and has the distinguished walk-of-shame look—rumpled clothes, messy hair, hicky on his neck. “Morning, Sammy,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

Sam rinses his mouth and spits out his toothpaste. “Morning. You have a good time last night?”

He’s hit with a sudden flash of déjà vu. He’s can’t remember the details but he’s said these words, in this context before, but… not like this.

Dean clears his throat awkwardly, like he’s remembering something Sam can’t. “It was okay,” he says finally.

Sam thinks harder, wracking his brain for something similar that had happened recently. Of course it was from that time without a soul, and he knows he shouldn’t try to scratch at that wall, but Dean is so intensely uncomfortable. Sam knows that somehow, this is important.

There, the memory hits—

* * *

“You have a good time last night?” Sarcastic, with barely hidden anger behind the words.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Dean replies.

“You look like a mess.”

“I had a _really_ good time.”

“You can’t do this when we’re in the middle of a hunt, Dean. I need you sharp. You’re the one watching my back.”

Dean scowls at Sam. “I’m allowed to make my own decisions.”

“You being irresponsible affects me, too.”

“You’re just jealous it wasn’t you.”

An icy look passes over Sam’s face and he shoves Dean against the wall, pressing his forearm against Dean’s chest to hold him in place.

* * *

Sam blinks rapidly, pulled back to the present for just a moment.

“Sam? Are you okay?” Dean asks, approaching Sam cautiously. “You’re not… remembering something, are you?” His voice rises in pitch a little bit, a little more than when he’s just worried about Sam scratching too much at Death’s wall. There’s something specific he doesn’t want Sam to remember.

Sam’s hit with a wave of dizziness as he continues to remember. He leans back against the wall and sinks to the floor as it comes back to him.

* * *

“I could have you if I wanted to,” Sam says, leaning in close.

Dean lifts his chin defiantly. “In your dreams, you soulless freak.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Dean struggles to push Sam off and fails. He’s strong, but Sam is stronger. A flash of fear goes over his features. “You wouldn’t.”

Sam presses his lips to Dean and kisses him, hard and forceful. Dean keeps his mouth tightly closed, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to turn away. Sam pulls back. “Watch me,” he says softly, his face an inch away from Dean’s.

Dean slams the heel of his foot down on Sam’s toes. Sam reels back for a second and Dean tries to move, but Sam recovers quickly and strikes out with a quick punch. Dean gasps, dazed, and starts to crumple to the ground. Sam catches him and shoves him onto his stomach on the bed.

“You know what, Dean?” Sam says, crawling on the bed over Dean. Sam pulls off his belt and tightens it around Dean’s wrists.

“Don’t,” Dean says, his voice weak but coming back to him as the daze wears off. “Sammy, don’t.”

“I _am_ jealous it wasn’t me with you last night.” He rolls Dean over roughly and starts to undo Dean’s pants. “I don’t know why I’ve been wanting you for years without doing anything when I could’ve just done this the whole time.”

“Sam, I swear to god,” Dean says. There’s warning there, but also a rising fear.

Sam straddles Dean’s legs, holding him in place, and runs a hand down Dean’s chest, his eyes dark.

“Sam,” Dean says again. He struggles to get away again, but Sam’s not giving him any room to move. “Get off me, you sick fuck. I’ll fucking kill you. You do this, you’re dead.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Sam strokes the side of Dean’s face gently, and Dean jerks away. “Just relax. I bet you’ll enjoy it, if you give it a chance.”

“No,” Dean says, and now his voice is pleading. “Sam, no. Stop. Please.”

Sam smiles.

* * *

Sam gasps as reality comes back all around him. He’d seen it. He’d seen everything he’d done to Dean. And the way Dean had swore at him during, and then begged for him to stop, and then just sat there expressionless afterwards as Sam cleaned up, dried tear streaks down his face from the pain.

And Sam remembers… He remembers the way he’d _liked_ it. He’d hurt the person he loved the most in the world and he’d enjoyed it. He feels a wave of nausea and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Sam?” Dean asks warily.

Sam opens his eyes and looks up at him. Dean’s face is completely flat and expressionless.

“I’m… God. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“You remembered…?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dean steps away, stares at the floor. “It wasn’t you, Sam.”

“It wasn’t all me. But it was me.” He takes a shaky breath. Dean had made his deal with Death to get Sam’s soul less than a week after what had happened in the memory. And it had been less than a month since then. It comes to him now, all the times Dean had seemed warier than usual around him. Flinching away if Sam moved too quickly, coming up with any excuse to get out of their motel rooms, always fiddling with a knife when they were alone. Sam figured the jumpiness was from all the things Sam had done to other people when he’d had no soul, but this… “How can you even stand to look at me?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Maybe we should hunt separately for a while,” Sam says slowly. “Or maybe forever. What I did, there’s no coming back from that, and—“

“No. Just shut the fuck up, Sam,” Dean says, his voice low. “I swear to god. You keep talking and I’ll punch you.”

“Dean, we have to talk about it, I can’t just let this hang in the air—“

“We’re not talking about it. It’s in the past. We’ve got a job to do, so just stow all that shit away and keep it to yourself, all right? Don’t—“ His voice cracks. “Don’t you dare bring it up again.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t know what to say. What is there to that would be enough right now? How can he even begin to apologize for what he did?

“I’m going to go get ready. You go out and get us some coffee or something, got it?” Dean says, turning away as he takes off his jacket and drapes it over a chair.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Sam says, his voice shaky, and he gets to his feet. “I’ll be back soon.” He looks at Dean but Dean refuses to meet his eyes. The _I’m sorry_ on his lips fades, and he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts and constructive criticism appreciated


End file.
